Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Dahlia couldn’t remember the last time she slept in.
The cool top sheet clung to her legs. The birds’ sweet chorus played outside her window, and she could hear the sailboat masts echo in the distance.
The breeze billowed through the open windows.
It was exactly what she needed after yesterday’s unexpected revelations.
She fought every urge to move from this spot and greet the day.
Remaining in Lil’s bed just a few minutes longer meant she didn’t have to cross anything off her now lengthy to-do list just yet.
There was such peace here. Dahlia was beginning to understand why Lil had fought so hard to stay here, even when she no longer had her independence.
A few more minutes, then Dahlia would grab coffee. She’d have it on the sleeping porch and watch the sailboats. She’d always wanted to do that.
BANG! BANG! BANG! SCREEEEEECH!
Dahlia hurled forward, ripping the eye mask from her face. “What the hell?” She tossed the covers aside. Who had the audacity to run a saw at 7:57 in the morning on a Saturday—on a holiday weekend, no less?
Her feet hit the cold floor, and so did Harry’s, looking for action. She could feel her cheeks grow warmer with each nanosecond that passed. Harry bolted down the old, narrow staircase first, followed by Dahlia.
Out the back door, she followed the sound, which appeared to be coming from the barn. No one was supposed to be using it but her this summer.
Dahlia charged into the barn. She didn’t know what she’d find, and she didn’t care. After yesterday, she wasn’t in the mood to play nice. She stumbled through the door only to be met with a haze of dust particles that burned her eyes and made her cough.
“It’s eight o’clock in the morning!” she yelled over the noise. She could barely hear herself over the table saw. “Stop it!” The screech suddenly stopped. Her ears rang as she watched the man slowly remove his goggles and the handkerchief over his mouth.
Oh, God—it was him. Noah Sterling from Hamptons House. He was so much taller up close. She stood motionless, staring at the man who was now petting her dog. She glared at Harry. Traitor.
Seconds felt like long minutes. She was braless, standing before Noah Sterling in nothing but a tank top and undershorts, her nipples like headlights on a foggy night.
She tried to cover herself with her hands and, despite knowing exactly who he was, blurted, “Who the hell are you? And why are you in my barn?”
He straightened his posture, his broad chest straining the buttons on his flannel. A puzzled look flashed across his dirty face. “Me?” he asked. “What are you doing in my barn?”
Dahlia shook her head. “This is my Aunt Lil’s barn.” And now it was hers. “No one is supposed to use it but myself, Bruce, and Garrett—and they’re away for the summer. You’re trespassing on her property.” Her armpits started to sweat, and other parts too.
He cackled with a condescending tone, and it hit her last nerve.
She covered her breasts tighter. “Is something funny to you?”
“No. But it’s not trespassing when you have a signed document from the owner.”
“What?” Her posture shifted. How could he possibly have a note from Lil? “Um, I don’t know what you think you have, but my aunt passed away a few months ago, and there’s no way she could have signed anything.”
He lifted his T-shirt to wipe his mouth, showing the contours of his chiseled stomach.
Her breath hitched. “Well, she did.” He handed her a paper he’d tucked beside some tools on a shelf, like he knew he’d need it someday soon.
He had a goofy grin on his face and sawdust in his ’stache.
His hands were sweaty and dirty, yet her stomach took flight when his hand grazed hers.
Dahlia opened it and read it to herself, going right to the crux of the letter.
I hereby give permission to Noah Sterling, who is residing at 8 Meadow Lane, Southold, NY, to use and share my barn with my niece, Dahlia Newberry.
He may enter and use at his convenience until my house at 6 Meadow Lane is sold.
Sure enough, the signature was Lil’s. At that moment, she felt betrayed.
Twice in the last twenty-four hours, Dahlia was hoodwinked by a woman whom she’d thought she knew better than herself.
How could she have given him permission to be here when she knew the only thing Dahlia wanted was to be alone?
She leaned back onto the workbench, speechless, feeling the paper crinkle in her grip.
“Bruce is my uncle. He said I could crash here this summer while they were in Italy. During the winter, he reached out to Lil to see if it would be okay if I used the barn to build furniture. And she mailed him this note.” He paused, taking a sip of water.
“My guess is she figured you’d give me a hard time. ”
“Well, she was right.” Dahlia wanted peace and quiet, not this kind of noise all summer long outside her window. What was Lil thinking? “But it’s my house now, so my rules,” she said with a firm nod.
“What?” He set his water jug down.
“You’re going to find another barn to borrow.” Dahlia looked away.
“Another barn?” He moved closer, and she could smell his sweat. “Like it’s that easy?”
Adrenaline rushed through her body. “I don’t care what you do.” She didn’t care how hot he was, either. “But you’re not sharing my barn.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Dead serious.” And with that, she stomped her barely dressed self out of the barn.
“I know women like you,” he called after her. “You want to give a guy a hard time just for breathing.”
She marched back; she could feel her face getting hot. The audacity of him. She already couldn’t stand this man. “Listen, bucko. I know plenty of guys like you too.”
“Oh, do you now?” He folded his arms and leaned against the doorjamb.
“Yes, entitled and ego-driven. You may have everyone fooled, but not me.” Dahlia waved her hand toward her dog in a come-here motion. “Harry, come!”
Harry didn’t budge, just sat there happily on the cool barn floor.
Noah smirked. “I think he wants to stay with me. Maybe until you cool down.”
“Ugh!” Dahlia tossed her long hair as if such a move came naturally to her and headed back to the house.
The man was infuriating. He had to go. Dahlia felt deceived by Lil; first the letter, and now this? Kara was going to need to be resuscitated after this little update.
After Dahlia collected herself from the morning face-off, she called Kara.
She filled her in on her new neighbor and the argument that still had her frazzled.
To say Kara was in shock was an understatement.
She implored Dahlia to give him a chance, at least for her sake, and was suddenly all too eager to come for an impromptu visit.
After ending the call where Dahlia essentially softened, ever so slightly, she went in search of the mysterious and elusive key.
Like it would be that easy. The first stop on this puzzling mission was the home office.
Dahlia yanked the drawers open in Lil’s library desk and riffled through her papers.
Something as small as a safe-deposit box key could be anywhere, but this was the likeliest of places.
She poked around the hunter-green built-ins her pop painted back in the eighties when it paired well with mauve.
She flipped through a random biography of Hollywood actor Charles Halston, called Rags to Riches, and shook a ratty paperback beside it, as if Lil were the type of person who would hide something important in a book.
She sat on the floor, the scattered papers around her, and hugged her legs.
All she wanted to do was cry. Maybe if she gave in to it, it wouldn’t feel so overwhelming.
She tucked her head into her knees, about to succumb to her grief and frustration, when there was a knock at the front door.
Maybe it was Jean with the appliance parts. Perhaps she had good news and found someone to help. Dahlia rose from the dusty floor and wiped the dirt from her shorts.
Harry was already at the door when she opened it.
“Hello,” said a rugged voice attached to a cleaned-up version of the man from earlier.
Dahlia bravely faced him head-on despite the belly swoop that made her want to sink her teeth into her lip.
“Listen, I’m sorry about this morning,” Noah said, putting his hands in his pockets. “I shouldn’t have been causing such a commotion that early. I couldn’t sleep, and I thought, well … Anyway, it was a bad idea. I take full responsibility.”
“Okay.” She stepped into the doorway with folded arms. So, he could admit when he was wrong. She felt a slow smile building, but she couldn’t show her hand just yet. Harry parked himself right next to the man as if telling her to hear him out.
“And I’m sorry for what I said. I’m a little jaded right now.”
She wanted to correct him and say “grumpy” because “jaded” sounded way too polite, but she just stood there, waiting for him to finish.
“I shouldn’t have taken that out on you.
I honestly don’t know why I was so triggered.
” His cheeks began to flush. Noah Sterling from Hamptons House was feeling uncomfortable.
And that could be the victory right there.
As if he sensed Dahlia’s awareness, he blurted, “The last thing I’m looking for is …
you know.” He pointed to her and then himself.
“Well, that’s a relief,” she said with enthusiasm, trying to hide a tinge of inexplicable disappointment. “You don’t have to worry. I’m not either.”
He nodded. “Say, if I promise never to build that early again, if you’ll reconsider letting me share the barn for the summer?” He raised his brows in a playful plea. “I mean, I know technically it’s yours.”
“Damn straight.” Dahlia exhaled, trying not to connect with his Pacific blue eyes. She had no plan of losing herself in them, but they were stunning and utterly hypnotizing.
Noah leaned closer. “Listen, I see you’ve got some things that need fixing.
” He pointed to the hole in the decking.
“I can help. I did construction all through college and …” He paused as if he were trying to find the right words.
“I also renovate houses in the Hamptons. Maybe we can barter help with the house in exchange for barn time.”
Dahlia stood frozen in place as she bit the inside of her cheek, something she did when she was nervous or confused. On one hand, she could use the help, but on the other hand, Noah was a very leading man kind of sexy, and Dahlia was human, after all.
“I’m sorry too. I was a hard-ass this morning.
But in all fairness, yesterday was the absolute worst day.
I came here this summer looking for tranquility, a bit of peace, and as you can see, it’s been the exact opposite.
” She points to the hole in the porch. “I’m not sure a carpenter next door aligns with that.
” However, the house needed fixing, and Dahlia had no other potential hopefuls in mind.
“I need to build.” He held up his hands, and even they were cute. Manly, rough, and big, with nice nail beds.
Dahlia drew in a breath, imagining what they would feel like against her skin. A smile pulled at her cheeks, but when she looked up, she was met with an even bigger smile, this one laced with mirth. “Sorry, you were saying?” Her face felt as hot as a tamale.
“Ahh.” Noah was at a loss for words too, it seemed. “Oh, yeah, just that it’s the only thing that’s grounding me right now. And keeping me from going completely bonkers.” As quickly as his bright smile came, it faded like the sun.
Dahlia was quiet, unsure of what to make of his abrupt shift.
He could actually be worse off than she was.
Suddenly, she felt terrible for the hunk standing at her doorstep and carefully weighed her words.
“If I agree to this—and I’m not saying I will—I would pay you for any work you do on the house. ”
“I don’t need your money. I’ve got enough.”
Must be nice to get paid the big bucks to be on TV. She wondered why he wasn’t filming. Something must have happened. Perhaps it had to do with what Kara mentioned yesterday, about his best friend double-crossing him.
“Look, think about it. I’ll be gone until tomorrow evening.” He stepped back. “I’m headed to Southampton to meet some friends. How about you sleep on it?”
“Sure. Sounds fair.”
“I’m Noah, by the way.” He reached for her hand.
“I’m Dahlia.” His touch sent racing tingles up her spine and trailed right up into her lifeless heart.
“Tomorrow, then.” He gave a warm nod, leaving a trace of hope floating through the air.
“I’m not making any promises,” Dahlia said with a playful shrug.
“But you’re not saying no,” he said, walking backward to his motorcycle while putting on his aviators.
She was so screwed.